


A Tale of Two Sizes

by The_Raconteur_24601



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brothers, F/F, GT, Hurt/Comfort, TINY - Freeform, giant, giant tiny - Freeform, mention of bullying, shrink, size shifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Raconteur_24601/pseuds/The_Raconteur_24601
Summary: Life is hard enough when you're thirteen. They always tell you to be ready for changes in your body, but nothing could have prepared Stan Baker forthis.A compilation of a small series of prompts.CW: Mention of bullying
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	A Tale of Two Sizes

Stan was in a _heavy_ mood when he returned home.

His dragging footsteps were heavy, his bedroom door banged heavily as it shut, his backpack dropping to the floor and the way Stan tossed himself unto the bed were both almost as heavy as his heart.

At thirteen years old, he’d long since gotten used to the bullies. He could hardly recall a time in his educational career that he hadn’t been picked on for one reason or another. He was small for his age, slim as a twig, and his pale complexion, freckles, and bright red hair made him stick out all the more among his peers. It barely mattered that his brothers were teaching him how to defend himself; any muscle he gained from training and fighting seemed too lean to make a visible difference.

Stan heaved a long sigh and buried his face in his pillow, hugging it close.

By the time he’d flipped a few of his bullies and seemed to deter them from coming after him, they all shifted gears. With hormones raging high and everyone hyperfocused on popularity and who liked who, Stan was physically picked on less and instead became the subject of harsh words and rumors that knocked him down the social hierarchy.

The harsh words stuck with Stan and stung worse than any bruise. They hurt because some of them were true. They swirled around in Stan’s head long after he heard them, and they made me feel so small.

Microscopic.

A strange sensation made Stan peel his shining cheek away from his pillow. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was getting _bigger._

Stan bolted upright and realized the blanket was expanding beneath him. His heart jumped into his throat and began pounding, and Stan could swear it all started to go faster. He could feel the fabric passing past his hands and even gave himself a quick pinch in the arm amidst the slight panic. It certainly _felt_ real.

He really was getting smaller and smaller!

He gave a yelp when it all came to a sudden stop, the vertigo knocking him flat on his back. His arms flailed as he righted himself, green eyes wide as he looked around. The ceiling was so far away now, and all at once the room that had so often been his sole safe space became an alien landscape, made up of massive structures and bizarre shapes.

Stan had no idea how long he sat there, awestruck. Before terror and confusion could override, he had to admit that seeing things from a few inches tall was pretty cool.

* * *

"Stan?"

Simon Baker rapped gently on his youngest brother’s bedroom door. “Suppertime! Get it while it’s hot!”

These days, Simon thought it best to give Stan whatever space he needed. School had always been a rough time for the kid, even more so now that he was a teenager. Even so, Simon tried to keep spirits light in the hopes of cheering Stan up.

Simon’s brow pinched when there came no answer. Usually, even on the worst days, he’d get a grumble in response at the very least. Stan would never turn down a meal.

“C’mon Stanley, don’t want it to get cold without you,” he called through the door as he made a move to open it. He went slow, not one to burst in on anyone, and he listened for Stan to correct him.

It wasn’t that he _hated_ being called Stanley, but he did prefer Stan.

Only when Simon still didn’t hear a peep out of the room did he open it all the way. Now he was concerned.

His frown deepened as he stepped into the room and found it empty. Stan wasn’t in bed, but his schoolbag was still there and the window was securely shut. Simon knew Stan came home earlier, so where did he--?

A light skittering on the floor by his feet interrupted Simon’s thoughts. He looked down; when he didn’t see anything, he took a wary step closer.

In the corner of Simon’s eye, he noticed something quick and tiny dashing into the open for a second. He didn’t get a good look before it took shelter under Stan’s dresser.

Simon sighed and strode over to shut Stan’s door. If his brother brought another mouse into the house, he’d better take care of it before it got into the walls. Then he could resume figuring out where Stan went.

Grabbing one of Stan’s jars and a ventilated lid from the desk, Simon lowered himself to the floor to peer under the dresser. It was too dark to see in any detail, but a small shape hurried to the far side. Simon sat up and reached around to snatch it before it hid under the bed.

In his hurry to get his catch into the jar, Simon didn’t notice that it didn’t quite feel like a mouse in his grasp.

He made sure to tilt the jar so the little thing would slide safely to the bottom. Simon was used to this habit of Stan’s, and he knew it came from a well-meaning place. Their youngest brother was never one to walk away when anyone or anything needed help. Even a lost, injured mouse.

So it was a complete shock to Simon when he lifted the jar to find something that definitely wasn’t a mouse.

“Oh, God.”

* * *

Stan couldn’t breathe.

He thought seeing the world from only a few inches tall had been amazing, and after he climbed down his bedspread to the floor, he was all set on exploring the alien landscape his bedroom had become.

Then the ground, the very air, _everything_ began to shake. Steady vibrations rattled the floor under Stan’s feet and froze him in place. Sharp impacts on the massive door made him flinch, and he clapped his hands over his ears as a tremendous voice rumbled through it.

Panic rose within the teen as it sank in. Someone was looking for him, and they were _enormous._

His imagination took it from there, disregarding the logic that whoever was out there was one of Stan’s _brothers,_ his _family._ Instead, Stan was paralyzed by images of giants as they’d been portrayed in films and stories, vicious creatures who meant harm to those smaller than them.

These overwhelming fears came to a head when he saw the door open ever so slightly, and Stan jumped behind the nearest thing to hide, hardly noticing that it happened to be a discarded shoe that was now taller than he was.

Stan’s heart pounded too loudly in his ears to process what the giant was saying, but he certainly felt the wave of displaced air when the door swung open, the earth-shattering footsteps that followed. Humongous feet stomped closer and swung right past Stan’s hiding spot in only a handful of steps.

A hand shot up to cover Stan’s mouth, quieting his heavy breathing and stifling the dread-filled cries he could feel creeping up his throat. The giant’s feet were _right there_ and Stan was completely exposed, it could notice him at any moment! He needed to find a new hiding spot, and he glanced around the corner of the shoe to find one.

If he could just make it under the dresser in the distance…

The next few minutes were an adrenaline-filled blur; dashing from one shoe to its match to hide, then from there to the safe shadowy cavern under the dresser. The _SLAM_ of a door and more thunderous footsteps to run away from.

Before Stan could make heads or tails of anything but _runrunRUN!_ , he found himself surrounded by warmth and gentle pressure. Squirming against it made Stan realize it was _flesh_ he was resisting, a dull and distant heartbeat pulsing through a palm much bigger than Stan’s entire body, long and strong fingers curled impenetrably around him.

Just when Stan started shaking with terror, the grip around him loosened. He fell between fingers and landed on something cold and smooth, and slid down a sleep angle for only a second until he settled at the bottom.

The bottom of a _jar_ Stan realized after a panicked look around. Surrounded on all sides by glass that was surrounded by those gigantic fingers, gripping tight as the hand tilted to right the jar. The jar was lifted, and Stan flattened himself to the bottom as he felt the pressure of gravity working against him. From there, too terrified to do much else, Stan curled into a ball in one last ditch effort to block out the world.

Then, after a second or two that seemed like an eternity to Stan, the world flipped on its head, and it was for the best that Stan was scrunched in a tight ball. It kept him safe when he tumbled out of the jar, landing back in that massive hand.

It didn’t close around him this time, but that hardly mattered to Stan, who scrambled to find some way to escape from the immense creature that had him in its grasp.

“N-no! Please!”

* * *

“Stan, it’s me,” Simon breathed, putting the jar down and cupping his newly freed hand under the one holding his impossibly tiny baby brother. The poor kid looked so _little,_ recoiling against fingers longer than he was tall and balling up in fear.

Simon had no idea _how_ Stan became so small, but what mattered was calming him down. So he kept his voice low, not wanting to bombard the kid, when he was so scared already.

“It’s just me. It’s Simon.” He slowly lifted his hands to eye level as he reassured Stan. It was hard to tell if it was getting through. All he could do was watch miniscule shoulders shake, feeling more helpless than ever. “Your big brother, remember?”

Gradually, that tiny little redhead began to untuck from Stan’s protective ball, and tiny little pinpricks of green locked with Simon’s much larger eyes. He felt Stan stiffen at first, and Simon couldn’t help the tension in his shoulders.

“I’m here,” Simon whispered, slowly moving his thumb to rest gently against Stan’s thin, fragile arm.

Stan flinched away at first, but after a glance back at Simon’s concerned eyes, he melted into the comforting touch.

Simon felt his shoulders slump in return, though his hands remained motionless as Stan wrapped his arms around his thumb and sobbed into it. Whatever happened, they’d figure out how to fix it together. No matter what, they were family.

* * *

“And that’s all you remember?”

Stan, sitting on the desk at only a few inches tall, nodded as he looked up at his towering big brother. Simon had always been the tall one, but _this…_

“That’s everything.” Stan’s hands wrung at the sleeves of his shirt as he hugged his knees close. “I dunno _how_ this happened, I dunno _why…”_

The crack in Stan’s tiny voice as he trailed off made Simon’s heart sink. Ever since they lost their parents, it had been up to him to take care of his young brothers. He thought he could handle that, _had_ been handling it for years now. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Slowly, Simon lifted his hands back into Stan’s line of sight. The kid’s shoulders tensed up at first, but he looked up to see Simon’s eyes were glued to him. He’d never overlook Stan, no matter how small he was, and all he had to do was tell Simon to get away and he would stop.

Right now, though, all Stan wanted and needed was his big brother.

So Stan allowed Simon’s hands to close in and gently scoop him off the desk, uncurling his body to make things easier. As jarring as all this was, he trusted the fingers he was leaning back on. Even if they happened to be bigger than Stan now.

For just one second, Stan could swear he saw a crack in Simon’s facade; the slightest twitch of his lips, a few blinks that happened too close together. Miniscule details that Stan might have overlooked before all this.

Then, a little faster yet no less gentle, Simon drew his hands close, lightly pressing Stan over his heart.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Simon whispered, the resonance through his chest coupled with the sudden movement making Stan stiffen from head to toe. It was a very different feeling than anything he’d experienced before, and when Simon _wasn’t_ talking, his heart plodded along somewhere within. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going anywhere, none of us are. Alright?”

As he listened, Stan found himself melting against Simon’s chest until all tension was gone. The warmth and softness of Simon’s shirt, the sound of his heartbeat… As alien as it all felt at this scale, this was _safety._

This was _home._

Stan gave a yelp and Simon’s hand dipped all of a sudden as a newfound weight bore down on it. They exchanged a look to find that Stan was gaining inches rather quickly. Soon, one hand was not enough to hold the kid up. Reflex caused Simon to wrap his arms around Stan once he was able to, preventing him from falling in the midst of all this change. Simon was twice as thankful that he’d been sitting in a chair for this, or else Stan’s sudden weight in his arms might have knocked him over.

By the end of it, Stan came to stop at his regular size, lanky legs dangling over the edge of the chair. They sat in stunned silence before simultaneously hugging each other tight. Stan couldn’t be more thankful for Simon’s help and support, but they both had a feeling this wasn’t the end of it.

They were proven correct when, sometime after dinner, Stan once again found himself less than four inches tall.

**Author's Note:**

> Awesome photo by [QuackGhost](https://www.deviantart.com/quackghost/gallery/53916672/commish)


End file.
